


Desire in Uniform

by The_Shadow



Category: DCU (Movies), Man of Steel (2013), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Clothing Kink, Consensual Sex, F/M, Light Dom/sub, Military Uniforms, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Uniform Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-27 10:47:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2689988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Shadow/pseuds/The_Shadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Superman is (usually) submissive, Carrie is sexually frustrated and the new recruits should be scared.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desire in Uniform

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a number of dirty comments my friend and I made while watching Man of Steel.

He always waited until she was alone until he came to her. She never knew how he managed to sneak into her quarters every night, much less why'd he chosen her, and she never cared to ask. She was just glad he came. In all that that implied...

He'd shown up once, the first time, wearing his “day clothes”; a black suit. She had just come out of the shower and hadn't been expecting anyone, of course, and confronted him with only a towel and her handgun.

Once he'd explained what he wanted her, she put an end to that nonsense. She told him that if he ever showed up without his body suit, he'd be shown the door. He, a physical _god_ , got so adorably flustered and promised to wear it the next day. She, on the high of ordering around a being who could crush her and the promise of a repeat of what knew would be a _super_ performance, dropped her towel, strode confidently over to him-making sure to give him a good show with the sway of her hips, and crushed her lips to his.

 

Captain Carrie Farris was jolted from her reverie when the military drone she and General Swanwick had been following crashed less than a hundred feet ahead of them and she was forced to hit the brakes.

No, not crashed. _Had been thrown_. As she and the Colonel stepped out of the car, he flew down to meet them. _Him_. Her Adonis. Dressed in the suit that showed off each and every curve of his muscle just the way she liked, and the cape that made him look like a king.

She rolled her eyes as the words, “Are you effin stupid?!”* actually came out of her commander's mouth and bit her lip as she imagined running her hands up and down the hero's chest. If only that fucking S wasn't there, keeping her from feeling him more closely.

Superman, that's what the papers were calling him, but she knew better. The S stood for Sexy. He was her Sexyman.

She'd told him so. After their first time together, his strong arms holding her tight, her cheek pressed into his chest.

“Are you really going to call me that?”

“You bet your hot ass I am!” She held back a blush. Since when did she say things like that?

He rolled on top of her.

“And what if I don't want you to?” He whispered into her ear.

She giggled, then rolled them so she was on top. Smirking down at him, she said, “You're just gonna have to deal with it. I'm in charge here.” She grabbed his chin and held it as tightly as she could. She liked to imagine it hurt him as much as it did the recruits fresh out of basic she did it to when her favorite vibrator wasn't enough.

He smirked back, but nodded.

“Good boy,” she cooed, releasing her hold and slapping him lightly. “Now,” she said, grinding herself against his absolutely _perfect_ cock, “you'd better get your second-in-command up and ready quickly if you know what's good for you. I'm not done with you tonight.”

And so began their routine. She'd come off duty, put on her dress uniform, fix herself a glass of wine and decide how she was going make her Sexyman service her when he came.

Not that she was always top dog. Carrie considered herself a fair woman and was always willing to submit to him when he needed her to.

And she always knew when it was coming. She had only to watch the news.

She remembered the first time. She'd watch him fight off some kind of giant alien monster while she and the rest of her platoon shot uselessly at it. Finally, he thrown the creature back into space. That look he gave her, when he'd floated down, made her flush. She _knew_. Knew he was going to take her that night, however he wanted. And she couldn't wait.

She walked to her quarters as non-nonchalantly as she could, already dripping, and, trembling, put on her dress uniform.

Not that it mattered much. She didn't think he even noticed what she was wearing as he burst in, scooped her up and flew her to her room.

He threw on the bed and ripped her impeccable clothing right off of her. Her last thought before he thrust in was wondering how she was going to explain it to the quartermaster. After that, she was too occupied by coming loudly over and over again, and trying to scratch her nails into his back.

That's how it was whenever something big happened. A day of getting cats out of trees and he was her slave. A day fighting off space giants, and she was his willing “stress relief,” as he called her.

Or whenever the military pissed him off. She smiled, vaguely aware of the standoff between her commander and her Sexyman. Maybe it'd be enough to rile him. Or maybe she'd submit to him anyway.

She could see it now. He'd come floating in to find her waiting for him. He'd be expecting her to order him to massage or eat her or something, but instead she be all sweetness and light and gently plant a kiss on his lips as she draped her arms loosely around his neck.

She'd take him by the hand and lead him to the bedroom, making him stand in front of the bed. And then, kissing him again, she'd peel that skin tight suit right off of his body.

Taking his cock in both hands, jerking it and stroking it to get him hard, she'd look him the eye and ask him if he decided how to use his stress relief.

“Yes,” he'd say. “Kneel before Sexyman.”

“Mm-hmm, yes sir,” she'd say, planting kiss after soft, sensuous kiss down his chest as she got to her knees.

He'd already be hard thanks to her deft hands, but she'd rub him against her full lips until she was sure he couldn't get any harder. Then she'd take him into her mouth, sucking him and teasing him with her tongue all the while staring him straight in the eye until he came.

She'd swallow, of course. He'd like that, seeing her gulp down his cum and licking her lips to get anything that dribbled out.

And then, with him satisfied and his stress thoroughly taken care of, he'd have plenty of time to take care of her needs.

 

“What are you smiling about, Captain?”* the Colonel said, snapping her out of yet another fantasy.

“Nothing, sir,”* she said, trying to compose herself as he fixed her with a disbelieving stare.

“...I just think he's kind of hot,”* she finally admitted.

Swanwick raised just raised his eyebrow and nodded in exasperation.

“Get in the car, Captain,”* he said, striding past her.

“Mm-hmm, yes sir,”* she said, following behind.

She sighed, these endless fantasies about Sexyman were getting out of hand. If she couldn't have him, she'd have to find away to get them out of her system.

It looked like another evening with her favorite vibrator.

Actually, screw the vibrator. She'd find one of the stronger recruits from basic to smack around.

**Author's Note:**

> *Indicates a line from the movie proper. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> The line, "Kneel before Sexyman" (and, by extension, Sexyman) came from the depraved mind of my friend. Everything else is from *my* depraved mind.


End file.
